


Tell Me Something You've Never Told Before

by bbbeautifulboy



Series: Fix Me Up, My Darling [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves Friendship, Ben Hargreeves Lives, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, No Incest, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29283165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbbeautifulboy/pseuds/bbbeautifulboy
Summary: Ben is seventeen when he almost dies, but doesn't.Klaus is seventeen when he makes the most important promise he's ever made.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Fix Me Up, My Darling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150481
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Tell Me Something You've Never Told Before

**Author's Note:**

> TW: focus on suicidal thoughts, depression

Klaus figures he must be going into withdrawal. His head is pounding, hands shaking, and every other minute he’s on the verge of doubling over and being sick onto the linoleum floor.

Lucky for him, his stash ran out yesterday morning; he smoked his last blunt before the mission. Normally he would have snuck out by now to meet his dealer in a dark alley somewhere deep in the city where any other seventeen-year-old with a pinch of common sense wouldn’t dare step foot; how can he be so brave, yet such a fucking coward? Why does bravery only come to him when he’s running away from his fears? Why won’t it come to him now?

Because Ben flatlined last night; because he’s lying in an infirmary bed in front of Klaus, face gray and drawn despite the numerous blood transfusions Mom has given him, a tube circling under his nose. At least he can breathe on his own now; Mom had only weaned him off the ventilator that had been breathing for his broken body earlier this evening. Klaus traces Ben’s wrist with his eyes for the thousandth time since electing to sit vigil by his bedside, and his stomach flips again at the number of needles stuck in it, delivering antibiotics, and painkillers that Klaus should be envious of. But he isn’t; Klaus is paralyzed, and has been for hours. His mind might as well be slipping away with each beep of the heart monitor.

There are no ghosts. There are always ghosts around Ben, gruesome ones, countless people the Horrors have disemboweled and beheaded, mouths hanging open in silent screams. But there are none, maybe because Ben is- had been- on the verge of death himself.

What had happened? They’d been so close before they started going on missions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at night, sharing bags of candy Klaus had shoplifted from the convenience store around the corner (back then, “candy” meant actual candy, Twizzlers and shit, not multicolored pills of vaguely-known origins). Ben used to be Klaus’s tether to the world when he felt like floating away. Ben was the only other one whose abilities were a bigger burden than a gift, and selfishly (as if selfishness doesn’t play into Klaus’s every choice) Klaus had found solace in not being alone— he thinks Ben had, too.

Then they started going on missions, and Klaus fell a step behind the others, where he could turn to drugs and drink when they weren’t looking, and then even when they were. Ben started building up his ghost entourage that only Klaus could see, no less than five newcomers every time he returned from a mission covered in blood. Needless to say, Klaus stopped clinging to him; in fact, he avoided looking at Ben at all, when he could. Even the drugs couldn’t block out that many ghosts.

Not that Ben didn’t have a role in their drifting apart, as well. The more missions he went on, the more light left his eyes. The less wordless grins he shared with Klaus across the dinner table, the less he participated in the real world, choosing to hole up in his room or dark corners of the library with a book any time he wasn’t training or studying. Ben was trying to escape, too, and who could blame him? Who could blame either of them, when all reality gave them was pain and suffering? 

Still, Klaus is unsure whether the twisting in his stomach is from withdrawal or regret. The others had gone to bed ages ago, but Klaus had snuck back down here to the infirmary to watch his brother sleep, watch his chest rise and fall, just to make sure it doesn’t still again. 

Klaus’s eyes are stinging and glazed over by the time he realizes Ben’s are cracked open and meeting his. Klaus blinks a few times, glancing at the clock on the bedside table, which reads 3:27 a.m..

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward. “Rise and shine. You gonna stay with me this time?”

Ben has been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few hours since Mom removed the tube from his throat, and before then he’d been out of it. This time, however, his eyes are focused on Klaus; his expression is hazy, but he is aware. “Klaus...”

Klaus swallows. Then he says, quickly, “Don’t worry, you’re not... you didn’t, uh, die. I mean, you probably figured that out, you wouldn’t be stuck in a hospital bed if you were dead. The others are asleep. They wanted to be here when you woke up— shit, I should probably get them. Do you want me to get them? Oh hell, I should probably get Mom-” He starts to stand.

“Wait, Klaus... slow down.” Ben flings a hand out, clumsily grasping his wrist, Klaus pauses, meeting his eyes again, and slowly sits back down.

“Okay. I don’t blame you, all those people would give me a headache too. Especially Luther. You should’ve heard him while we were waiting for you to get out of surgery...” he puts on a deep voice, mocking of One’s. “ _ Two should have run in a zig-zag pattern away from the enemy like we were trained.  _ As if Diego’s running tactics had anything to do with why the mission went to shit.” Klaus snorts, and the corner of Ben’s mouth twitching up; his eye roll is half-hearted but there’s still no mistaking it. Klaus chokes on another laugh, and then a sob, and then his vision is blurring and hot tears are streaking down his cheeks faster than he can wipe them away with his sleeve. He needs to pull himself together, but he’s never been very good at that, has he? He puts on a show, faking emotion in order to not feel, a carefully-crafted mask over the numbing relief the drugs instill. His system is screaming for it, all of his barriers bulldozed down. He is vulnerable, and there is no stopping it.

“Jeez, did someone die?” Ben’s still smiling slightly; it doesn’t reach his eyes but the joke is enough to drag Klaus away from his tears.

“Asshole,” Klaus mutters, grinning back, and for a moment they’re friends like they used to be. “You... really scared us.” Guilt flashes in Ben’s eyes, so Klaus adds, “Do that again and I’ll kill you.”

Ben doesn’t respond with mirth this time. It’s his turn for his face to crumble; Ben has always been more self-conscious of crying, waiting until nighttime when he can muffle his sobs with a pillow and cry himself to sleep (he underestimated how thin the wall between his and Klaus’s room is, and how little Klaus sleeps himself). Now, he turns his face towards the ceiling, removing his eyes from Klaus’s as he blinks silent tears from them. 

“The joke was that bad, huh?” Klaus says gently. 

“I need to tell you something,” Ben whispers, still not meeting his eyes. “Don’t tell the others, they won’t understand.”

Klaus doesn’t need to be told twice. “Okay.”

“I…” Ben trails off, closes his eyes. Klaus can’t tell if he’s gearing up to tell him or if he’s lost consciousness again, and then-- “I wanted to die. I’ve wanted to die, for months now, it’s all I can think about, and what happened on the mission... I didn’t plan it, but when I was laying there thinking I was gonna die, I was thinking that maybe if I survived it I’d be cured of whatever... whatever’s wrong with my brain to want something like that, or scared off of death, or something— but I’m not. I still want to die, I should’ve died, I’ve killed so many people and I can’t... I can’t do it anymore. I think I’m past the point where I’ll ever want to live again, it’s not worth it. I want it to be over.” He inhales quickly, like his confession had been one long exhale. He squeezes his eyes shut, more tears leaking from them, and his chest begins to shudder with the kind of sobs that have been restrained for too long. 

“Ben…” Klaus wordlessly shifts himself up onto the hospital bed beside him, carefully minding all the tubes; he’s not sure why he does this, it’s not like Ben’s current condition will permit him to sit up for a hug, but Klaus hopes moving closer will provide a similar sort of comfort. 

“I need it to be over, please, Klaus, please let it be over, it  _ hurts _ ...”

“I know,” Klaus says, voice cracking. He smooths Ben’s hair back, like Mom sometimes does when Klaus returns from the mausoleum. It’s not enough, Klaus will never be able to do enough, not for Ben, not for himself-- not for anyone. “I know, I-I understand.”

Ben turns his face to the side, away from Klaus, continuing to tremble. 

“I’m not gonna to let you,” Klaus whispers eventually, when he’s unsure if Ben’s even listening anymore. “I’m not gonna let you die, Ben.”

His words are met with no reply, hanging in the sterile air, echoing around his head.  _ Will you?  _ He thinks.  _ That’s a big commitment for a worthless, teenage junkie. Think you can pull it off? _

No, he realizes, settling back against the wall, tipping his head back to stare at the gray ceiling. But damn, he has to try. 

**Author's Note:**

> national suicide prevention lifeline: 800-273-8255
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> if you liked this, i'm considering expanding it into a series going into how all the siblings' lives would have changed had Ben lived, up until Five returns in 2019. So stick around for that, if you so please
> 
> Comments give me the biggest serotonin boosts <3


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